


Amanda Brotzman's Hollistic Phone Tree

by anomalation



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Gen, They suck the life out of a neo nazi, Tw for that, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalation/pseuds/anomalation
Summary: A few scenes from after the show. Featuring: the Rowdy crew in their new grey clothes, emotional honesty, and most importantly, Bart.





	Amanda Brotzman's Hollistic Phone Tree

It was getting easier to slip out of her body. She had an attack in the first hour they were driving, and the guys fed off her just like they always did - Martin without taking his eyes off the road - but in the moments of blinding pain before they realized what was happening, Amanda let go of her physical self, and spent a moment Backstage.

Or that's what she called it, anyways. It probably had some kind of impressive name. Dirk might know it, if she could ever figure out how to explain where she was. She asked Hugo this time, while she stood next to him and watched the universe work. "Does this place have a name?" she said.

"How should I know?" he said. "I haven't talked to anybody but you in years."

"It's been less than a day," Amanda informed him.

Hugo shrugged, sulkily. "Well, it's not like I have a clock or something."

"You're wearing a watch."

He looked down at his wrist with his red and black eyes and sniffled. "Oh."

Amanda looked up, at the stars moving like gears inside an inconceivably large clock, and felt the pull of her body calling her back. "I don't know what I'm doing," she said, half to herself.

"What?" Hugo frowned at her. "Sure you do, look." He pointed in the sky. "That's you." A small, bright spot at the center of a cluster. Lines connected them to distant galaxies before fading, and Amanda wished she knew what they meant. "You're fixing things. Like Dirk. Except he keeps fucking up on purpose."

"Don't we all?" Amanda said dryly.

"I didn't," Hugo said.

The self-pity got old fast. Amanda turned to go. "See you later."

"Be careful," Hugo blurted. "I mean you're like my only visitor, so."

Amanda blinked, and then she found herself smiling at this ridiculously hot disaster. "I'll do my best," she said, half sarcastic, and that was it.

She came back into her body in a rush, a vision dancing in front of her eyes. There was a new voice in her visions now, Hugo's. _You're fixing things,_ he said, and she saw Blackwing, a child crying, a teenager with dyed red hair, a boarded up house, and then Farrah, looking over some big rocky hole in the ground.

The pain was gone, and her other senses came back slowly. The Beast was holding her hand, scowling in worry. Cross and Gripps had her securely between them on a seat, and across from her, Vogel grinned. "You're back, boss?" he said.

Amanda looked up front, made eye contact with Martin in the rearview mirror. "Sure as hell am," she said, and saw Martin's eyes crinkle up with a smile.

"Lunch to-go," Cross said, leg bouncing. "X's and O's."

"Manda heppy?" the Beast asked, crouched in front of her.

"I'm happy," Amanda nodded, took a deep breath. "Thank you."

As soon as she was sure the guys were okay, she headed up and took the passenger seat, next to Martin. She thought for a second about putting a seatbelt on, some echo of her mom in her head. But this was her van, with her boys. She was safe with them, and there weren't any seatbelts anyways.

"Hey, drummer girl," he said, eyes on the road. "You feeling alright?”

"Yeah," she smiled. "I am."

He squinted out at the bright road, and she wondered offhand if he'd ever wear sunglasses. "Felt you go somewhere else this time. All good?" he said. For a vampire that fed off of emotions, he was pretty good at keeping a lid on his. She could tell, barely, that he was worried.

"All good," she nodded. "I just left this dimension for a second. There's this place, where you can see how the universe is working. I've been calling it Backstage. So. I went there."

"See anything that blew your mind?"

"Not really. Had another vision when I came back. I think we need to go to Bergsberg. I saw Farrah."

"You got it," he said.

And that was it. He just did it. They went to Bergsberg and no one even suggested anything different. Amanda wasn't complaining, not for a second, but it was... well, it was weird. That's what it was. Martin was just letting her be in charge, when he was older and more magical and also a dude. Not that she thought men should be in charge, but they usually thought that. Except these ones.

After their energy feast in Wendimoor, the guys weren't starving anymore. They were full, calmer than she'd ever seen them. Mostly, they slept the whole way. Except Martin, who seemed to be willing to drive without stopping.

"You've gotta sleep," Amanda told him, when the moon was high in the sky and everyone else asleep.

"We gotta get there," he countered, sounding very mild. "All those bucket-head boys back in cuckoo-land will keep me going a while."

Amanda chewed on her lip. "Okay," she said. "But still. You'd be better if you slept, right? And we aren't in a hurry. I didn't see Farrah in danger or anything."

Martin clenched his jaw for a second, relaxed it while Amanda watched. "This is really itching your brain, drummer?"

"Yeah, yes," she said, as sure as she’d been about anything. "I saw how exhausted you guys were from Blackwing, I want you to rest. Who knows what weird shit is coming next."

Apparently even Martin couldn't argue with that. Or he wouldn't, which Amanda found sort of terrifying. He pulled over at the next motel, shadowed Amanda to the front desk, where they traded cash for a worn-smooth key from an exhausted teenager. He backed the van up to their room, and the two of them went inside while the rest of the Rowdies slept.

Martin stretched out on the bed as she sat next to him, and he looked up at her. "You sleeping too?" he asked. "Refill that energy?"

"I'll try," she said. "What about the others?"

"They're asleep," Martin shrugged, unworried. So Amanda didn't worry either. She sat on the bed with him, and tried not to overthink if she should lie down. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable either. When she hugged him - the first and only time, in Wendimoor - he wasn't exactly uncomfortable with it but he didn't return it either. Seemed like sharing a bed was in that neighborhood. So she folded her hands and stayed sitting.

Martin shifted, eventually. He folded his hands behind his head, and shot her a glance she could feel. "Sleep sitting up usually?" he said. She was always surprised when he got a normal-sounding sentence out, which was probably rude. He took care of the boys for years, after all.

"Not usually," she said.

Martin nodded. "What's going on," he said. Just said it, like plain. It made Amanda be plain back.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said. "I want you to sleep."

"You?" he said. "Good one."

Amanda shrugged. "Well, you didn't want me to hug you."

Martin propped himself up on his elbows. "Where'd you get that idea?" he said, looking over the top of his glasses at her.

"You didn't seem to like it," she said, her voice raising a little. She sounded totally defensive. "I dunno, you froze up. What was I supposed to think?"

"Froze up," Martin repeated, and then he chuckled a little. "Alright," he said, and sat the rest of the way up. "C'mere," he said, and held an arm out for her.

So they hugged again, time number two, and this time Martin held her back. He was stiff, but not unwilling. And before they separated, Martin said, "There you go again. Upping my levels."

Amanda held him tighter. "So you don't hate it?" she said, her voice thick.

"Nope."

"You're just... not used to it, or something?"

Half of her expected him to lash out. She'd seen him get violent, after all, wreck things like Todd's apartment - though he probably deserved it - and cars and shit. But here, Martin just nodded, after a moment. "Government agents, man," he said.

"I saw where they were keeping you," she said, still holding him. "Was it like that before? When you were there."

Martin let go of her before answering. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, sniffed once, and looked away. "Yup."

Amanda stored her questions away for later. "Okay," she said. "Well. You're out of there."

"I sure am," Martin answered, and he lay back down. This time, Amanda lay with him, after turning off the lights. She stayed on her back, rather than having to turn towards or away from him. Martin was on his back too, same as before. His breathing was even, his energy calm. She could feel it. "You're something special, drummer," he said to her. And Amanda didn't know what to say about that, so she didn't say anything. She fell asleep.

She woke up to something tickling her nose. When she opened her eyes, she was inches away from the Beast. It took her eyes a second to focus. "Manda?" the Beast said in a faux whisper.

"Yeah?" Amanda answered blearily.

"Cool cool," the Beast said, and loped out of the room.

Amanda realized, belatedly, that she was on her side. When she shifted, she felt Martin at her back - back to back, actually. She sat up, and he woke up. "Fresh and new in the morning?" he said.

"You know it," she answered, and his smile was warmer than ever.

No one else in the van was awake yet, so Martin and Amanda got back in and back on the road. The Beast squatted between their seats, watching the speedometer. "Zoomin'," she said to herself.

"Right you are, rainbow," Martin answered. He seemed unusually relaxed - after a while on the road, he ran a hand over his hair. “Hungry?” he asked the girls, and took them through a drive-thru. He even paid for it.

They reached Bergsberg by early evening, and Amanda trusted Martin's nose to lead them to Farrah. He got them outside a respectable apartment, and no further. "Your move," he said. "We'll keep an eye out."

Amanda nodded. She wanted to say goodbye, but not just say goodbye. She wanted to do something. Because he was something to her, clearly. He was. So she ended up just kind of awkwardly putting her hand out towards him. He took it, squeezed it, like some weird kind of handshake. It was hard to tell if he knew what she was going for. Amanda split rather than try to figure it out.

“Amanda!” Farrah said when she opened the door. “Hello. Amanda. Who is at my door. Is Todd here?”

“No,” Amanda said. “Just me. And the Rowdies, but they’re not coming in.”

“Good,” Farrah said. “I’ve seen the way they… decorate. And I’m not a fan.”

“Babe? Who’s at the door?” A short girl came up behind Farrah and leaned on her, one short arm around Farrah’s neck. In her other hand, she held a half-eaten waffle. “Well, hi there,” she said, looking at Amanda in surprise.

“Tina,” Farrah said, her voice more clipped than before - which was saying something. “Tina, this is Amanda. Todd’s sister. Amanda, Tina.”

Tina stuck the waffle under her arm and held her hand out. “Tina Tevetino. Nice to meet you. Are you in a band?”

“I used to be,” Amanda said, shaking Tina’s hand. “I’m a drummer.”

“Sick.” Tina nodded appreciatively. “You wanna come inside?”

Amanda looked over her shoulder at the Rowdies, who were currently on their best behavior but still kind of loud for the neighborhood. “Well,” she said. “I’m actually not sticking around for long. I’m a…” She sighed. “Leaf. On the stream of creation.”

Farrah’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Got it,” she said. “Okay. It brought you here?”

“It did,” Amanda said, and told her more about the visions she had. Tina listened, leaning on Farrah’s shoulder still, heavily, which Amanda noted with interest.

“Ey,” Tina said. “That kid you saw in your vision or whatever, sounds like Scott Boreton. Susie’s kid. He’s with his dad now, you could go take a visit.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“Course. You want us to come with? Farrah’s a cop, she’s got that real intimidating look down.”

“You’re a cop too,” Farrah reminded Tina, seemingly not for the first time.

“I’m good,” Amanda said. “Thanks. I’ve got some intimidating looks of my own.”

“Right on,” Tina nodded and looked past her at the Rowdy 3. “Who’re those guys?”

“They’re my guys,” Amanda said. She couldn’t think of anything else to call them. “They’re just… y’know. We’re the Rowdy 3.”

“There’s six of you,” Farrah pointed out.

“Yeah. A little out of hand,” Amanda grinned.

The Rowdies came with her to the Boreton’s. “This the voodoo house?” Martin asked, van idling outside.

“It’s made of shapes,” Cross announced from the back. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh man, you see the colors?” Vogel added. “Don’t like the colors, they’re laughing at me.” And the Beast growled in agreement.

“Easy,” Martin said. “The old lady is trapped and ain’t coming back. Now, boss needs support.”

It was a thrill that didn’t really fade, when he called her that. It was fucking wild. She loved it. “Don’t worry guys,” she said. “I’ve got you.” And they trusted that, they followed her in.

She considered bringing the wand and decided against it. The guys hated it, and the people here probably hated it too. Besides, Amanda had plenty of magic herself. But in that first minute, looking at this kid, she kind of wished she had the wand, just to hold onto. The suburban-ness of this whole house was not something she was well equipped to handle.

“My dad will be back soon,” Scott said, not for the first time.

“Smells like burning,” Vogel said to Amanda in a stage whisper. Which probably sounded like a threat, she realized, when Scott paled.

“Scott, I had a vision,” Amanda just told him. “Of you. And my visions usually mean something. So I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. We met your mom, and-”

“I’m sorry,” Scott cut in. “I didn’t mean to… I mean I know I wasn’t a good kid all the time.”

“Slow your roll, firecracker,” Martin said. He tilted a picture on the wall with one finger, like he couldn’t help himself, and ambled back to Amanda’s side. “Your momma lost her marbles long time ago,” he said.

“And she’s never coming back,” Amanda added. “Like, literally never.”

“Is she dead?” Scott ventured the question.

“No,” Amanda said. “No. Not dead. Trapped in basically purgatory by the god of another dimension, but not dead.”

That seemed to be comforting, in whatever way it could be. “Oh,” Scott said. “So is this about what that guy said on Facebook?”

Gripps, who was on the floor systematically dismantling an xbox controller, looked up. “Ding dongs,” he said. “Twinkies and Space Cakes.”

“What’d he say on Facebook?” Amanda asked.

Cross was playing with the puppy. “A book of faces, boss?” he said. “I dunno.”

Scott was looking more comfortable by the second; he smiled at that. “Well,” he said. “I posted about when I hit that pink hair guy and said it was weird, and some guy said something else weird had happened.”

“What kind of weird?” Amanda asked.

“He’s not my friend,” Scott said to begin with. “He’s like… into that alt-right stuff. But he said some dude showed up and won’t leave. I thought maybe it was activism, y’know, but. Sounds like it could be something like you guys, right? I mean couldn’t he make them leave?”

“Let’s find out,” Amanda said, and looked at Martin. He nodded once at her, a small smile on his face. Then he gave a low whistle, pointed at the door, and all the guys - and the Beast - got up to leave.

“Hold on,” Scott blurted. “Wait. Will you come back?”

“Probably not,” Amanda frowned. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just you’re the only people who seem to know what’s going on, around here,” Scott said. “And I’d like to know what’s going on.”

So Amanda left with his phone number - Scott (witch’s son) in her phone - and the address of this weirdo guy, who was an hour away in a different small town.

“Alt-right,” she said in the car.

“So like, left?” Gripps said.

They didn’t know what it was. She was kind of relieved to figure that out. Like honestly, why did they need politics for what they did. Amanda sighed, and leaned her head against the window. “Okay,” she said. “Y’know like, democrat and republican?”

Martin nodded. She looked back to see Cross and Gripps in agreement too, but the Beast and Vogel looked nervously lost. “Okay,” Amanda said. “So now there’s people who are extreme republicans. And they call themselves alt-right. But what they actually are, are Nazis.”

“Like Indiana Jones?” Vogel piped up.

“Yeah, except now. And they want white people to kill everybody else.”

“Wy peepo?” the Beast said.

“Huh,” Amanda said, as it occurred to her for the first time that she and Martin were the only white people in the car. Unless the Beast counted. But she thought she probably didn’t. “Well. Yeah,” she said slowly. “Skin color is a big deal with them. For some reason.”

Gripps and Cross and Vogel were all very quiet. Seemed like even government experiments didn’t get to avoid the ripples of racism, which was a depressing thought.

“Whatever,” Amanda said louder. “So. What I was trying to say was, we don’t have to hold back. We’re going to fuck this guy up, and figure out whatever weird shit has found him.”

“You heard her, boys,” Martin said. “Let’s fuck some Nazis up.”

They piled out of the car like old times, the guys howling and shouting and the Beast doing her best impression of Cross. Amanda was carrying Martin’s backup bat, and followed him into the fray. Gripps smashed a mailbox. Vogel uprooted part of a decorative fence. The Beast kissed a post on the porch, then swung her crowbar straight through it.

When they kicked the door in, Martin halted, took a deep sniff and exhaled deeply. “Huh,” he said.

“What?” Amanda asked.

“There’s a kid here,” he said.

“A kid like you?”

“Think you should really start saying like _us_ ,” he told her, and smashed the glass in one of the front windows.

The kid was in the bathroom. Or at least she assumed he was, because there was a big burly guy standing in front of the door. In front of, because he couldn’t fit through. Amanda had met a lot of bouncers, but this guy was more than a wall. He was a fuckin tank. And he was just standing there, looking impassively at the destruction Cross and the Beast were enacting on the hallway.

“Hey,” Amanda said from the end of the hall.

The man looked over at her. “Hey,” he answered.

“Who’s in there?” she asked.

“My client.”

“Is your client a child?” The man gave nothing away. “I had a vision,” Amanda added. “Of a child. And the universe brought me here.”

“The universe,” he repeated.

Amanda sighed, felt the tugging in her heart that she’d come to associate with Dirk Gently and occasionally her brother. “I’m a leaf,” she said, as she knew she should. “On the stream of creation.”

It was some sort of freak show catchphrase, she decided, because everyone always reacted to it. This big man frowned at her, and asked, “Were you in Blackwing?”

“We were,” Martin answered. “You?”

“Yup.”

“And what are you doing here?” Amanda asked.

“I’m a holistic body guard,” the man said, and that’s when Amanda knew she was in the right place. “I protect who the universe thinks needs protecting.”

“And one of them is this kid?”

The guy nodded.

“From who?”

“From anything that might hurt him.”

Amanda frowned. “Do you think we might hurt him?”

The guy shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Would you let somebody in there, to make sure he’s okay?”

“Of course he’s okay. That’s why I’m here.”

“How about the rainbow one?” Amanda said. “She’s totally harmless.” The Beast stopped smashing a poster out of its frame and smiled, with her still slightly-pointed teeth.

“Just for a second,” the bodyguard decided, and the Beast crawled into the bathroom.

While they were waiting, Vogel and Gripps joined them. “House is wrecked, boss,” Vogel said.

Martin put his arm around the kid, to calm him, Amanda thought. “Good work,” he said. “Wait in the car, everybody.”

That struck Amanda as odd, but she didn’t comment. She didn’t want to second-guess him, so she didn’t question it. And then it was just them, and the guy, in the hallway.

“You have a name?” Amanda asked him.

“Klaus.”

“You have a phone?”

So she got Klaus in her phone, and his last name was Bodyguard. Eventually, the Beast came back out. She even remembered to walk upright. “He ok,” she said. “Pile of napkin.”

“Is it a kid?” Amanda asked. “Like, maybe four years old, blue shirt with a white collar.” And the Beast nodded. So it was the kid from her vision, and another abnormality. They were where they were supposed to be. She didn’t get why it felt so weird, though, and she looked at Martin hoping for a clue.

“Something rattling your brain, drummer?” he said, and took a step closer to her.

“Yeah,” Amanda said. “Something’s not right. Something’s supposed to happen.”

In retrospect, maybe she should’ve expected the nutjob to have guns. But when she was asking for something to happen, she didn’t mean getting a gun pointed at them.

Martin relaxed, actually, when he heard the gun click. “Interesting,” he said.

“Can you help us?” Amanda asked Klaus. He just shrugged, so that was a no.

The guy with the gun was yelling some bullshit. Amanda didn’t attention to any of it, except where he said something about taking care of their friends outside. After that she didn’t need to give any directions; Martin charged the guy and sucked the energy from him before the gun could go off. Then they ran outside together, for the van.

Cross was shot. It was kind of a haze then, because Amanda had an attack. The bullet felt like it was in her leg, not his, and it burned until he fed. And after that, she could catch her breath and the hole in his leg was pink and mostly okay. He still wasn’t good, though.

“Get us a hotel room,” Amanda said to the whole car. Like everything else, they obeyed without question.

She’d never seen Cross like this. And by now, she’d seen him quiet, she’d seen him half-dead the way he was after that time in Blackwing. This wasn’t like that at all. Cross was just… silent.

Gripps pushed the two beds together, and all of them lay down together. Amanda claimed the spot between Cross and Martin. Vogel was on Cross’ other side, lying the opposite direction, with Gripps on the other side of him. And the Beast was up near the head of the bed, curled around their heads. She alternated untying and tying Vogel’s shoes, for the moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Amanda finally said.

“Rewind, boss,” Cross said.

“But you got hurt,” she said. “Just like last time, when Vogel got shot by that Priest guy. Why don’t I see the bad shit happening?”

Martin put a hand on her arm. “Roll it in, drummer,” he said. “We been hurt before. And worse.”

Amanda shifted to hold his hand. “I guess,” she said. “I wish there was a bodyguard who’d actually do something. Not just stand there.”

“Open and close,” Gripps said. “In case of fire, break glass.”

While they were all lying here, relatively calm, Amanda figured it was as good a time as any, to bring up something she’d been wondering. “Hey. I know you guys can say normal sentences. How come you talk the way you do? I mean, not that it’s a problem. I usually get it now.”

“Blackwing had us locked up tight for a while,” Martin said after a moment. “Watching, testing, poking and prodding. Listening. Person could go a little nuts.”

“Crazy town,” Cross agreed, and he reached out for Amanda too, a hand on her leg. They liked to lie like this, keeping tabs on one another, and Amanda liked being included.

“No doubt,” Amanda said. “And you know I love all of you guys.”

“We know,” Martin said in a low voice, and he turned onto one side to face her. “That road goes both ways.”

“Love you, boss,” Vogel echoed obligingly.

Amanda pushed up on one arm to look at Cross, really look at him. That circle around his eye, the long hair that was always in his face a little. She had little-to-no concept of how old he was, exactly. “I’m sorry,” she said to him directly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cross said, with part of a smile. “Not even bleeding anymore.”

Amanda put her head down on his chest, ear over his heart. Cross didn’t seem to mind; he put his arm around her, and let out his breath. “Don’t go anywhere, Cross,” she said.

“Not planning on it, drummer.”

 

 

The next place the universe took her was California.

It wasn't half bad. They parked the van on the beach with the back doors open to the ocean, and the boys played in the sand. Gripps painted her nails sky blue. Amanda buried her toes in the sand but only felt truly grounded with her hand on Martin's shoulder. The Rowdies kind of split up, in ones and twos, and relaxed for the first time that she knew them.

She walked the boardwalk with Cross, both of them taking time with ice cream cones.When they were all together, all six of them, people gave them a wide berth. But just with Cross, no one seemed to look twice. Just another couple of punks. They'd left their jackets in the van, and the sun beat down on Amanda's shoulders.

"Hey," she said, and Cross kind of grunted back. "How old were you, when Blackwing took you the first time?"

"Eleven or twelve," he said. "Gripps the same, Martin a couple years older."

"Did you know Dirk?"

Cross shrugged. "Didn't let us mix much. 'Specially after they brought the kid in."

"Vogel?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Well." He looked up, at the boardwalk ahead of them and then glanced over at her. "Kid was kept separate," he said. "They had the three containment things for us, no room for him. But we could feel him."

Amanda nodded slowly, processing. "Did you... can you still feel him?"

"Yeah, all of 'em. And you 'n Rainbow, now."

"Just like, where we are? Or emotions and stuff."

Cross seemed to focus on something for a second, took a big bite of his ice cream. "Okay," he said. "Both. But not specific."

They were finished eating without talking anymore, and kept walking. Their van was pretty far out of the way, they had a while to walk. "What's with the third degree, boss?" he said.

"I dunno," Amanda said. "Just trying to put together your story."

"It's a downer one." He looked at the ocean to their left, out at the horizon. "No fun."

It was obvious he didn't like talking about it, so Amanda left it alone. She ran with him into the ocean spray, bought six packs of beer to bring back to the boys. He was a good companion, especially in a crowd. She never had to worry about losing him, and in tight squeezes he got her through with a hand on her shoulder, guiding her.

She asked Martin more about it, later that night. They were sitting in the sand, watching the sun set. "I was talking to Cross," she began, and paused.

"Yeah?" Martin finally said.

"About how you guys were brought in," Amanda continued. "You don't like to talk about it a lot, right?"

Martin looked down at the sand, pushed his glasses up his nose. "Don't talk a lot, period, y'know," he said. "Words aren't our deal."

“Well it’s not like they're mine," Amanda said crossly. "But you guys are. I want to know more about you."

“Open book,” Martin shrugged.

She put her head down on his shoulder, and by now she understood why he stiffened. Unfamiliar, not uncomfortable. “Okay,” she said. “But tell me whenever you want me to shut up, okay? Shut me down, if you want.”

“I don’t want,” Martin said with one of his little smiles.

“When you were kids. Did they keep you apart like when I saw you?” Amanda asked.

Martin inclined his head. “Yep.”

“Cross said Vogel was separate from you guys?” she asked, and Martin nodded again. “Where, why?”

“Experiments,” Martin said, looking out at the ocean. “Tests. Couldn’t separate us, so they never put him with us in the first place.”

“How’d you get to him?”

Martin kind of shrugged. “Got him when we left the program, the first time around.”

“Blackwing just let you all go?”

“Something like that.”

 

 

They found out why Amanda was led here later that night; she found another anomalous being, a holistic lifeguard with the uncanny knack of seeing what the water's going to do next. "It works on soda too," the girl told them. "Never had a drink spilled on me."

"Yeah, but you could be like, an engineer," Amanda said.

She knew what the girl's response would be as she was speaking. "It doesn't work like that," they said in unison, and Amanda sighed. "Right."

She saved the girl's number in her phone anyways - "Chelsea Lifeguard" - and they left the beach.

 

 

There were others. Anomalies all over the states, and the path they were following had no rhyme or reason Amanda could see. The Rowdies weren't asking for any more direction or something, but she felt odd. She floated like a leaf in the wind, and they were rowdy but not unhappy.

Until today. Today, she was looking at a facility she didn't recognize but they did. The van idled, with the rainbow monster in the drivers' seat. They'd been calling her Rainbow, recently, which she seemed to like nearly as much as she liked Dirk and strawberry jam. And she was deeply in tune with what the Rowdies wanted. They clearly wanted to leave. This was Blackwing. 

"Hey," she said. "I can go in alone."

"No way, boss," Vogel said, but he didn't seem to believe himself.

"I'll come with you," Martin said. "Just me." He looked at the guys. Gripps was busy scuffing his shoes on the side of the road and didn't look back. Cross looked, but only for a second, and he was not happy. He clenched his jaw and looked away. And Vogel kind of whimpered, and hopped up on top of the van.

"Really," Amanda said, "you don't have to."

Martin rested his favorite bat on his shoulder, rested his other hand on her shoulder. "C'mon," he said. "I'm at your side. If you're meant to be here, so am I."

She wasn't going to waste that trust. She wasn't going to ignore what the universe was telling her either. So for better or worse, Amanda led Martin towards the doors.

It was easy enough to smash glass and open door knobs from the other side. Too easy, maybe. Martin kicked open anything without windows, and after a few of those they ran into their first people. Guards, who ran right past them out towards the door.

"Not a great sign," Amanda said.

"Nope," Martin agreed unhurriedly.

They heard screams from ahead, or a few of them that were abruptly silenced, and the pounding in Amanda's chest was getting stronger, faster. This was close to her vision. Something just had to happen first.

The next door they came to was ajar, and the hallway behind had flashing red lights painting the walls. Amanda and Martin exchanged a look. "Who's even still here that could make this kind of trouble?" Amanda said.

Martin pushed the door open wider with his bat. The hallway was deserted. "Unless the universe is telling you to go further, I'm good here," he said, deadpan. For Martin, that was a pretty decent joke.

"Okay," Amanda said. "Maybe we double back, and there's a different door." 

He was about to agree to that when the door before them swung open wider, and standing there, covered in blood, was a girl Amanda thought she'd seen before. It took a second to place her; they were both there in the time machine room. Somehow, the bloody jumpsuit was an improvement on whatever she'd been wearing then.

Martin let out a low whistle, and he took a step back. "Bartine," he said.

"What?" Amanda frowned.

"Just Bart, these days," the girl - Bart - said. Her voice was deep, and scratchy, and a tear streaked through the blood on her face, leaving a cleaner trail. "I just had to kill Ken, so."

"Who's Ken?" Amanda asked.

"My friend," Bart said. "Or he used to be. But then he put me in jail, basically, and that wasn't very nice. And he hurt Mona Wilder."

"Where's Mona?" Martin asked.

"She left," Bart shrugged one shoulder, and dropped whatever she was holding - a very bloody pen - so she could dig her hands into her eyes. "Everybody leaves," she said in a pitiful voice.

Amanda looked at Martin. Martin looked at Bart and back at her. "We came," Amanda said. "I think for you. The universe wasn't specific."

Bart was only moderately cheered up by that. "I'm just a weapon," she said, cleared her throat hard. "All I do is kill people, and that doesn't even save anybody. I couldn't even save Panto."

"Panto's fine," Amanda said.

"What?" Bart frowned.

"Panto. Pink hair, right? He's fine. Dirk found the boy, the rightful ruler of Wendimoor, and he made everything right. Panto, his boyfriend, everybody's back and totally okay."

Bart was having trouble processing it, apparently. She looked back the way she came, then back at Amanda. “Nobody told me that,” she said. “Can I go see him?”

“I don’t think so,” Amanda said.

“Do you mean us any harm, Bartine?” Martin asked, in a way that seemed like he’d had to ask that several times before.

“Not today,” Bart said, giving him a resentful little look. “I mean it’s not like it worked out so well in the past, I guess. And now that I’ve had so many successes, I realize what a failure really means.”

“What would that be?”

“The universe doesn’t want me to kill you guys,” Bart admitted, scuffing the toe of her shoe in the blood on the floor. “Did you guys really come here for me?”

“Maybe,” Amanda said. “Where are you going?”

“I dunno.”

“You want to come with us?” she asked.

Bart shrugged, but then she followed them back out of the building so that seemed like a yes. And a guard darted out of a hallway, gun pointed at Martin, and Bart stepped between them just in time for the gun to misfire. Then she took it out of the guy’s hands and shot him without really seeming to think about it.

On Amanda’s other side, Martin flinched. “She’s got that kind of way about her,” he said in an undertone.

“I’ll say.” Amanda looked at Bart. “How would you describe yourself?”

“I’m a holistic assassin,” Bart said glumly. “I guess. I haven’t really felt like it recently, though. Which begs the question like, if I can’t do what I’m made to do, what am I even good for?”

Amanda looked at Martin. Martin just looked back. “You can hang out with us for a while, while you figure it out,” Amanda said. “If you want.”

“Really?” Bart said, and sniffled.

“If you wash that blood off,” Martin said. “Get a change of clothes.”

Bart looked down at her clothes, and up at them. “If you say so,” she said dubiously.

The rest of the Rowdies weren’t thrilled to see her, but they accepted her. They lent her clothes, since hers were covered in blood. Wouldn’t go near her, but Amanda figured they’d need to take baby steps at least. She let Bart sit up front while she drove, and peace was maintained.

 

 

They were off the job for once. At a concert, loud, with a rhythm that shook Amanda's heart with every bass note. The boys loved it. Amanda was jamming. Bart was totally baffled. "What's the point of this?" she asked loudly.

"Rock and roll!" Vogel answered.

"Who's rolling?"

None of them had a good answer. Bart didn't seem to care; she wandered off into the crowd. Amanda watched her go. "She's gonna kill somebody, isn't she," she said resignedly.

"Prob'ly," Martin answered flatly.

"Should we try to stop her?"

"Wouldn't work."

He was right, obviously. Amanda wasn't totally satisfied with that, though, so she watched Bart's progress through the crowd. She moved smoothly. The universe directed her path. She killed some dudes stalking a girl out in the parking lot; they passed the crime scene on their way to the van.

"What'd you kill them with?" Amanda said.

"One of them had a pocket knife," Bart answered. She seemed bored. “Why do people like this kind of thing?”

“Murdering?”

“No. Concerts.”

Amanda exchanged a look with Martin. She had absolutely no idea how to explain; he probably had even less. “Uh,” she said. “Because of the way it makes us feel.”

“Feel,” Bart repeated.

“Yeah, like in our chests. It feels… good. Like a heartbeat, but somebody else’s. Here. We’ll turn it on in the car so you can feel it,” Amanda said.

She didn’t think that would work, but Bart nodded suspiciously. When Martin flipped on the tunes, Bart began swaying a little bit. She was even mostly on beat. “Okay,” she said. And as she swayed, she began to shake her head more and more enthusiastically.

Vogel banged his fist on the side of the van. “Hell yeah!” he said. “Feel it.”

“Hell yeah,” Bart repeated after a second.

“You got that right!” Cross grinned.

“Hell yeah,” Martin said quietly.

“Not so bad,” Bart said. “This is okay.”

Amanda smiled, and leaned back against her seat. Martin looked over at her. “Where we going now?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Amanda said. “I need to have a vision. Hugo's probably lonely.” 

“No rush, drummer. We’re in this for the ride,” Martin said.

So they sped down the road, no end in sight.


End file.
